' 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

«» 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


The  Old  Journey 


The  Old  Journey 

Reminiscences 

of 

Pioneer  Days 


By 

ALFRED  LAMBOURNE 

• 


GEO.  Q.  CANNON  &  SONS  CO 
Publishers 


COPYRIGHT  1892-1897 
By  ALFRED  LAMBOURNE 


preface* 

The  author  is  one  of  those  who  ''•crossed  the 
plains,"  an  achievement  which  at  the  time  did  not 
seem  great  in  its  inception  nor  mighty  in  its  ac- 
complishment, so  crowded  with  pleasurable  inci- 
dents was  the  journey  and  so  full  of  the  inspiration 
aroused  by  the  necessities  and  ambitions  of  the 
undertaking  were  all.  As  the  years  have  gone, 
however,  and  time  has  not  only  cast  a  sort  of 
glamour  over  the  event,  but  has  given  men  an 
opportunity  to  reflect  thoughtfully  and  in  calmness 
and  intelligence,  that  same  journey  assumes  great- 
ness in  our  eyes,  both  in  inception  and  in  its  achieve- 
ment. It  finds  a  prominent  place  in  the  history  of 
the  nation,  and  will  ever  stand  forth  among  great 
events.  Indeed,  the  world  had  theretofore  seen 
nothing  like  it,  and  in  the  very  nature  of  things 


PREFACE 

its  repetition  is  improbable  if  not  impossible.  It 
must  now  be  read;  it  cannot  be  experienced. 

Some  years  ago  the  author  was  enabled  to  gratify 
an  ambition  to  record  in  artistic  form  something 
of  the  scenes  and  something  of  the  memorable 
Westward  March:  (( 'An  Old  Sketch  Book, ' '  Boston. 
S.  E.  Cassino,  1892).  The  purpose  was  not  to  pub- 
lish a  guide-book  of  the  plains,  for  which  there  has 
been  no  occasion  within  the  present  generation,  but 
rather  an  epitome,  a  poetic-prose  narration  of  a 
typical  journey,  as  seen  through  the  memory,  and 
devoid  of  commonplaces,  the  more  salient  features 
only  looming  through  the  past. 

When  the  Jubilee  Celebration  of  the  strange 
journey— for  it  is  that  and  those  who  made  it  that 
we  are  this  year  commemorating  and  honoring — 
was  decided  upon,  it  was  suggested  that  an  appro- 
priate souvenir  of  the  occasion  would  be  "  The  Old 
Sketch  Book."  That  work,  however,  was  a  large 
and  costly  volume  of  a  limited  edition,  and  hardly 
manageable  for  the  present  purpose.  The  author 


PREFACE 

therefore  decided  to  place  the  matter  and  sketches 
in  the  form  now  used,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Old 
Journey,"  and  carefully  revised  and  lengthened 
the  descriptive  portions.  The  prompting  to  under- 
take the  work  was  not  merely  encouraging  but 
was  made  almost  a  duty  by  the  commendations  of 
the  original  volume.  These  commendations  were 
not  confined  to  the  press  alone,  which,  however^ 
was  liberal  in  its  notice  and  approvement,  but 
were  given  orally  and  through  the  pen .  Had  there 
been  no  other  result  of  his  labors,  the  author  would 
have  felt  fully  repaid  for  them  by  the  expressions 
of  approbation  from  those  who  saw  the  birth  of  the 
State  and  who  have  watched  its  growth  to  the 
present  hour. 

It  was  in  consideration  of  the  singular  fitness 
of  "The  Old  Journey"  as  a  souvenir  to  be  pre- 
sented, during  the  Jubilee,  to  the  Pioneers  still 
living,  that  the  following  letters  were  addressed  to 
the  Pioneer  Jubilee  Celebration  Commission  and 
they  speak  for  themselves.  Many  of  the .  names 


PREFACE 

appended  to  the  letters  will  at  once  be  recognized 
as  belonging  to  the  honored  band  of  Pioneer  men 
and  women,  while  the  others  are  of  those  who 
think  that  in  this  Jubilee  Year,  both  those  who 
crossed  the  plains  by  ox-teams  and  those  that  came 
later  in  palace  cars  will  desire  and  appreciate  a 
work  of  this  character. 

To  the   Honorable   Utah   Pioneer  Jubilee    Com- 
mission, 
Ladies  and  Gentlemen: 

We,  the  under  signed  citizens  of  Utah,  respectfully 
suggest  that  a  very  pleasant  feature  of  the  cele- 
bration to  be  given  under  your  direction  would  be 
the  presentation  to  each  of  the  Pioneers  of  1847, 
of  a  copy  of  that  beautiful  work  of  art  by  Alfred 
Lambourne,  "The  Old  Journey,  Reminiscences  of 
Pioneer  Days."  If  the  Commission  will  purchase, 
say  Jive  hundred  copies  of  this  unique  and 
excellent  work,  for  presentation  as  it  may  de- 
cide, we  are  of  the  opinion  that  it  will  be  highly 


PREFACE 

appreciated  by  the  Pioneers,  and  be  fully  endorsed 
by  the  public,  as  it  certainly  will  be  by 
Yours  Respectfully, 

Wilford  Woodruff, 
Thomas  G.   Webber, 
Wm.  B.  Preston, 
Geo.  Q.  Cannon, 
Brigham  Young, 
L.  S.  Hills, 
Charles  W.  Penrose, 
Henry  Dinwoodey, 
John  T.  Caine, 
Lorenzo  Snow, 
James  Sharp, 
W.  W.  Riter, 
George  Romney, 
John  Henry  Smith, 
M.  H.   Walker, 
C.  C.  Goodwin, 
Heber  J.   Grant, 
Heber  M.   Wells. 


PREFACE 

To  the  Honorable  Utah  Pioneer  Jubilee  Commis- 
sion, 
Ladies  and  Gentlemen: 

We,  the  undersigned  women  of  Utah,  (some 
actual  pioneers  of  1847)  are  intensely  interested 
in  a  new  book,  now  in  the  hands  of  the  publishers, 
by  the  well-known  author  and  favorite  home  ar- 
tist,  Mr.  Alfred  Lambourne. 

Appreciating  the  efforts  the  writer  has  made 
heretofore,  we  can  safely  recommend  ' '  The  Old 
Journey,  Reminiscences  of  Pioneer  Days, ' '  which 
is  the  title,  and  we  know  the  entire  work  will  be, 
in  every  respect,  superior  in  excellence  of  design 
and  workmanship,  and  a  home  prodtiction. 

As  a  work  of  art,  it  will  be  worth  preserving, 
and  as  an  ideal  souvenir  of  that  memorable  pil- 
grimage from  the  borders  of  civilization  to  the 
Great  American  Desert,  will  be  a  most  unique 
gift  to  the  venerable  Pioneers  who  yet  remain  with 
us. 

Therefore  we  respectfully  suggest  to  the  Com- 


PREFACE 

mission,   that  it  purchase  a  suitable  number  of 
these  books  for  presentation. 
Zina  D.  Young, 
Elmina  S.   Taylor, 
Bathsheba  W.  Smith, 
Emmeline  B.   Wells, 
M.  Isabella  Home, 
Jane  S.  Richards, 
Romania  B.  Pratt, 
Annie  Taylor  Hyde, 
Anne  C.   Woodbury, 
Mary  A.  C.  Lambert, 
Sarah  J.  Cannon, 
Mary  Hyde  Wolf, 
Zina  Young  Card, 
Maria  L.  Nebeker, 
Lucy  B.  Young, 
Eurithe  K.  La  Barthe, 
Rosina  Godbe, 
Priscilla  P.  Jennings, 

M.  B.  Salisbury. 

In  presenting  this  edition  there  are  no  excuses 
to  offer.  The  author  has  been  true  to  nature  and  to 
history,  and  the  publishers  have  done  their  part  in 


PREFACE 

a  manner  that  must  excite  wonder  and  commenda- 
tion when  one  thinks  of  what  has  been  achieved 
in  the  wilderness  within  the  few  years  that  have 
passed  since  the  sketches  appearing  in  this  book 
were  made. 

It  is  but  proper  to  acknowledge,  and  it  is  done 
with  gratitude,  that  except  for  the  kind  and  gen- 
erous assistance  of  the  following  well-known  citi- 
zens of  the  State,  neither  the  original  work  nor 
this  Souvenir  of  the  Jubilee  Year  could  have  ap- 
peared. 

Trustee-in-Trust,  J.  R.  Walker,  HeberJ.  Grant, 
John  R.  Park,  W.  S.  Godbe,  W.  H.  Rowe,  M.  H. 
Walker,  John  Sharp,  Miriam  Godbe  Brooks, 
Geo.  W.  Thatcher,  W.  W.  Chisholm,  Moses 
Thatcher,  J.  F.  Woodman,  P.  H.  Lannan,  Gill 
S.  Peyton,  T.  G.  Webber,  George  Romney,  R.  K. 
Thomas,  Francis  Armstrong ,  James  Glendinning. 

It  scarcely  needs  intuition  to  foretell  success 
for  this  little  volume.  Byr(m 

May,  1897. 


'Far  in  the  West  there  lies  a  desert  land, 

•where  the  mountains 

Lift)  through  perpetual  snows,  their  lofty 

and  luminous  summits. 
Where  the  gorge,  like  a  gateway, 
Opens  a  passage  rude  to  the  wheels  of 

the  emigrant's  wagon." 


NEBRASKA  LANDSCAPE  WITH  A  PRAIRIE  FIRE  19 
O' FALLEN'S  BLUFFS  ON  THE  PLATTE  RIVER  20 

A  GATHERING  STORM 22 

COURT  HOUSE  ROCK 24 

CHIMNEY  ROCK 26 

SCOTT'S  BLUFFS 28 

LEFT  BY  THE  WAYSIDE 30 

ABANDONED  WAGONS  AND  CAMP  MATERIAL    32 
AMONG  THE  BLACK  HILLS       .        .       .        .34 

LARAMIE  PEAK          .        .        .        .        .        .36 

DISTANT  VIEW  OF  THE  RATTLESNAKE  HILLS    38 

DEVIL'S  GATE 40 

THE  NIGHT  GUARD 42 

A  BUFFALO  HERD 44 

ROCK  INDEPENDENCE        .        .        .        "\ 
WIND  RIVER  MOUNTAINS,  FROM  HIGH  I     .    46 

SPRINGS j 

FORD  OF  THE  GREEN  RIVER  .  .  .  .48 
MOONLIGHT  IN  ECHO  CANYON  .  .  .50 
GLIMPSE  OF  SALT  L/AKE  VALLEY  .  .  52 


DEDICATED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 
MY  FATHER. 


• 


The  Old  Journey 


old  sketch  book  —  well,  well! 
How  vividly  it  brings  back  those 
days  —  days  gone  this  quarter;  yes, 
nearer  this  half  century  !  How  unexpect- 
edly we  sometimes  come  upon  the  past  — 
turn  it  up,  as  it  were,  from  the  mold  of 
time,  as  with  the  plow  one  might  bring  to 
light  from  out  the  earth  some  lost  and  for- 
gotten thing*  This  book,  with  its  buckskin 
covers,  revivifies  dead  hours  ;  or,  if  not  ex- 
actly that,  brings  them  back  in  memory  as 
reminders  of  times  and  conditions  passed 

19 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

away  forever*  The  book  received  hard 
treatment  in  those  days  gone  by,  before  it 
lay  here  so  long  gathering  dust  and  cob- 
webs about  it*  It  was  never  petted  and 
taken  care  of*  but  was  made  to  rough  it  in 
this  world*  so  to  speak*  and  to  be  treated 
with  little  consideration — made  to  withstand 
the  brunt  of  many  a  hard  encounter*  Nor 
could  its  master  have  done  otherwise  for  it 
had  he  so  desired*  Master  and  book  were 
companions  on  a  rough  journey* 

&  Inside  and  out  the  book  shows  its  hard 
usage:  the  leaves  and  the  covers  all  tell 
tales*  This  buckskin  was  drenched  many 
a  time  by  the  thunder  storms  of  Nebraska 
and  Wyoming;  between  these  sheets  of 
variously-toned  gray  paper,  close  to  the 
binding*  are  little  waves  of  red*  gritty  stuff* 
contributions*  on  some  windy  day*  from  the 
sand-hills  of  the  Platte  Valley*  or  of  the  Big 

Sandy  Creek  (the  poetic  Glistening  Gravel 
20 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

Water  of  the  Indians)  or  from  the  u  Three 
Crossings/'  perhaps,  or  the  weary  bit  of  road 
leading  over  into  Ash  Hollow*  One  end 
of  the  book  has  been  submerged  in  water, 
a  reminiscence,  no  doubt,  of  the  fording  of 
either  the  Platte.  the  Sweetwater.  the  Lar- 
amie.  or  the  Green  River.  O.  there  are  all 
sorts  of  emotions  revived  by  this  book ;  they 
crowd  upon  me  thick  and  fast!  These 
crisp,  gray  leaves  of  sage — they  got  into  it. 
I  believe,  one  cool  September  night,  at 
Quaking  Asp  Hollow,  when  great  bonfires 
were  blazing  around  the  camp,  and  the  red 
tongues  of  flame  lit  up  with  their  light, 
wild  groups  of  dancers — the  ox-punchers 
performing  strange  antics ;  a  fantastic  danc- 
ing supposed  to  be  under  the  patronage  of 
Terpsichore ;  a  something  between  that  of 
our  modern  ball  room  and  the  Apache 
Ghost  Dance. 
^  Yes.  the  book  is  a  reminder,  old,  bat- 

21 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

tered,  dusty,  yet  truthful  withal,  of  what 
an  ox-team  journey  across  the  plains  and 
over  the  Rockies  was  in  the  years  that  are 
gone. 

jt  Turning  the  leaves  it  all  comes  back 
again,  I  go  over  the  long,  long  plodding 
of  seemingly  endless  days*  Not  only  do  I 
look  upon  the  scenes  which  are  shown  in 
the  book,  but,  through  sympathy,  on  others 
also,  that  for  want  of  time  were  left  un- 
sketched*  Incidents  of  many  kinds  thrust 
their  memories  upon  me*  Sometimes  the 
experiences  recalled  were  pleasurable ;  some- 
times they  were  sad*  But  mirthful  or  tragic, 
pathetic  or  humorous,  I  go  over  them  again, 
and  the  twelve  hundred  miles,  nay,  the  fif- 
teen hundred,  considering  the  circuitous 
route  which  we  were  compelled  to  follow, 
pass  before  me  like  a  moving  panorama* 
Prairies,  hills,  streams,  mountains,  canyons, 
follow  each  other  in  quick  succession— all 

22 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

the  ever-changing  prospect  between  the 
banks  of  the  Missouri  River  and  the  Valley 
of  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

<£  How  rapidly  we  have  grown !  What 
used  to  be  dreams  of  the  future  first  changed 
to  reality,  and  then  sank  away  until  they 
are  now  but  a  dream  of  the  past !  No  more 
the  long  train  of  dust-covered  wagons, 
drawn  by  the  slow  and  patient  oxen,  winds 
across  the  level  plains  or  through  the  deep 
defile*  No  more  the  Pony  Express  or  the 
lumbering  stage  coach  brings  the  quickest 
word  or  forms  the  fastest  transport  between 
the  inter-mountain  region  and  "The  States." 
How  hard  it  is  to  understand  the  briefness 
of  time  that  has  passed  since  this  great  in- 
terior country  was  practically  a  howling 
wilderness,  inhabited  by  bands  of  savage 
Indians  and  penetrated  only  by  intrepid 
trappers  or  hunters !  As  we  are  now  whirled 
along  over  the  Laramie  Plains,  or  through 

23 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

the  Echo  and  Weber  Canyons,  reclining  on 
luxur iously-cushioned  seats,  and  but  a  few 
hours  away  from  the  eastern  seaboard,  we 
can  scarcely  realize  it*  Surely  the  locomo- 
tive plays  an  important  part  in  the  destiny 
of  modern  nations!  Without  its  aid  the 
country  through  which  we  are  about  to 
pass  might  have  become,  as  was  surmised 
by  Irving,  the  cradle  of  a  race  inimical  to 
the  higher  civilization,  to  the  East  and  the 
West*  Now  we  behold  it  a  land  giving 
promise  of  future  greatness,  where  peace, 
wealth  and  happiness  shall  go  hand  in  hand, 
and  where  already  it  is  well-nigh  impossible 
for  the  youth  of  to-day  to  comprehend  the 
struggles  and  privations  of  its  pioneer 
fathers* 

«j*  Most  of  the  sketches  are  roughly  made* 
There  was  little  time  to  loiter  by  the  way- 
side* Some  are  hardly  more  than  hasty 
outlines,  filled  in,  perhaps,  when  the  camp- 

24 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

ing-ground  was  reached*  Some  show  an 
impression  dashed  off  of  a  morning  or  even- 
ing, or,  sometimes,  of  a  noonday*  Once  in 
a  while  there  is  a  subject  carefully  finished, 
telling  of  an  early  camp,  or  of  a  half-day 
rest*  Some  are  in  black  and  white  merely, 
others  in  color* 

&  The  first  sketch  (near  the  Missouri 
River)  shows  a  Nebraska  landscape  with  a 
prairie  fire  sweeping  across  it*  The  scene  is 
a  very  different  one  from  what  the  place 
would  present  to-day;  the  great  whirling 
mass  of  smoke,  driven  before  the  wind,  and 
the  principal  feature  of  the  sketch,  over- 
shadows with  its  darkness  a  far-reaching 
landscape  of  low,  rolling  hills,  clumps  of 
trees  and  a  winding  stream,  in  which,  how- 
ever, not  a  sign  of  life  is  visible*  The 
stream  is  a  small  one,  probably  the  Blue 
Creek,  or  it  may  be  the  Vermilion,  or  the 
Shell,  perhaps.  I  have  really  forgotten 

25 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

which*  Now  that  region  is  covered  with 
farms  and  farm-houses,  and  the  smoke 
which  arises  is  from  the  chimneys  of  houses 
where  prosperity  dwells*  The  sketch  shows 
a  wilderness,  so  great  is  the  change  wrought 
since  the  day  it  was  made* 

jt  What  a  new  delight  it  was.  to  one  city- 
bred,  to  mingle  in  the  freedom  of  camp-life 
such  as  we  enjoyed  near  that  spot,  and  how 
sweet,  too.  to  pass  his  days  and  nights  under 
the  blue  canopy  of  heaven!  There  was 
nothing  very  beautiful,  certainly,  in  the 
scenery  bordering  on  the  "Mad  Waters." 
but  it  was  wild  and  sylvan  at  the  time,  and 
we  were  excited  by  the  prospect  of  those 
months  of  travel  before  us.  Eastward  lay 
the  river,  with  the  steamer  "Welcome" 
(which  had  brought  us  up  the  stream),  the 
"Red  Wing,"  and  other  old-time  boats, 
passing  occasionally  up  or  down.  Westward 
the  level  horizon  attracted  our  eyes  and 

26 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

made  us  long  for  the  hour  when  we  should 
start  to  follow  the  setting  sun* 

<£  Persistently*  and  with  eager  curiosity, 
the  guide-book*  such  as  it  was*  was  scanned* 
For  weeks  ahead  we  studied  the  route*  We 
learned  the  names,  suggestively  odd  or 
quaintly  poetic*  and  pictured  the  places  to 
which  they  belonged*  forming  conclusions 
to  be  realized  later  on*  or  to  be  dispelled  by 
the  actualities*  The  imagination*  heated  to 
the  utmost  by  travelers'  tales — half  true* 
half  false — looked  forward  to  a  region  of 
romance.  Before  us  was  the  land  of  Kit 
Carson;  of  the  Sioux*  the  Cheyenne*  and 
the  Ute*  In  our  path  was  the  home  of  the 
prairie  dog*  the  coyote*  and  the  rattle-snake ; 
of  the  antelope*  the  buffalo*  and  the  bear* 

J>  But  I  am  forgetting  the  sketches*  Next 
in  the  book  is  a  quick  rubbing-in  of  the 
CXFallen's  Bluffs*  The  sky  and  the  river— 
the  slow-flowing  Platte — are  responsive  to 

27 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

the  light  of  a  golden  sunset*  The  brilliant 
rays  radiate  from  behind  the  huge,  square 
bluffs  which  throw  a  shadow  across  the 
foreground*  The  main  interest  in  the  scene, 
however,  from  our  present  standpoint,  is  the 
train  of  wagons  winding  along  the  dusty 
road. 

&  And  so  we  had  made  a  start !  We  had 
unraveled  the  mysteries  attendant  upon  the 
management  of  cattle ;  could  yoke  and  un- 
yoke; knew  the  effects  of  "gee"  and 
"haw"  and  could  throw  four  yards  of  black- 
snake  whip  with  a  force  that  made  its 
buckskin  "cracker"  explode  with  a  noise 
like  the  report  of  a  pistol. 

«*  Dearly  we  learned  to  love  the  Platte ! 
Even  if  the  way  was  dreary  at  times  we 
forgot  it  when  traveling  beside  its  banks. 
"Egypt.  O  Commander  of  the  faithful,  is  a 
compound  of  black  earth  and  green  plants* 
between  a  pulverized  mountain  and  a  red 
28 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

sand,"  So  said  Amrou,  Conqueror  of 
Egypt* to  k*s  master,  the  Khalif  Omar,  and 
so  almost  might  we  have  said  of  the  Valley 
of  the  Platte*  Day  after  day  we  trudged 
along,  and  day  after  day  the  red  hills  of 
sandstone  looked  down  upon  us*  The  days 
grew  into  weeks,  the  weeks  became  a  month, 
and  still  the  cattle,  freed  from  the  yoke, 
hastened  to  slake  their  thirst  at  the  stream* 
During  that  month  we  ate,  each  of  us,  that 
peck  of  dirt — if  sand  may  be  classed  as  dirt 
— which  every  man  is  said  to  eat  in  his  life- 
time* To  the  overland  traveler  of  today, 
the  Platte  is  almost  unknown;  but  from  the 
time  we  first  discerned  the  stream,  yellowed 
in  the  close  of  a  July  day  and  overhung  by 
ancient  cottonwood  trees,  until  we  bade  it 
adieu  at  Red  Rocks,  within  view  of  Laramie 
Peak,  it  seemed  as  a  friend*  As  on  the  edge  of 
the  Nile,  the  verdure  on  its  banks  was  often 
the  only  greenness  in  all  the  landscape  round* 

29 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

&  What  possible  enjoyment  is  there  in  the 
long  and  dreary  ride  over  the  yellow 
plains  ?  n  Rideing*  in  his  "  Scenery  of  the 
Pacific  Railway,"  asks  the  question*  "The 
infinite  breadth  of  space  and  air  does  not 
redeem  the  dismal  prospect  of  dried-up 
seas*"  "The  pleasures  of  the  trans-conti- 
nental journey,"  he  goes  on  to  say*  "  may 
be  divided  into  ten  parts*  five  of  which  con- 
sist of  anticipation*  one  of  realization*  and 
four  of  retrospect*"  With  us.  at  least*  it 
was  different*  From  the  railway  one  is  but 
a  beholder  of  the  scenery;  but  in  the  old 
journey  we  were  partakers  therein*  We 
became  acquainted  with  the  individualities 
of  the  way*  One  there  was  in  our  company 
who*  like  Phil  Robinson*  of  traveled  fame* 
remembered  the  principal  places  along  the 
road  by  the  game  he  had  shot  there*  Here 
he  had  dropped  a  mallard*  and  there  a  red- 
head ;  on  the  banks  of  that  stream  he  had 
30 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

brought  down  a  deer,  and  on  that  plain  had 
ridden  down  a  buffalo;  a  good  way  to 
remember,  perhaps,  but  unlike  him  I  recall 
all  the  good  spots  for  bathing*  O,  what 
joy  it  was  after  a  day  of  toil  to  plunge  into 
the  cooling  waters  of  the  Platte*!  Now 
I  see  sparkling,  the  waves  of  the  Elkhorn ; 
now  it  is  those  of  the  Little  Laramie ;  and 
now,  through  a  fringe  of  long-leaved  arrow- 
wood,  the  cold,  deep  waters  of  the  Horse- 
Shoe  Creek*  One  day  as  I  bathed,  Spotted 
Tail,  the  famous  Sioux  Chieftain,  and  his 
band  of  five  hundred  braves,  passed  along 
on  the  banks  of  the  Platte*  Open  mouthed 
I  stared  and  while  wading  ashore,  I  struck 
my  foot  against  (as  it  proved  to  be  on  ex- 
amination) a  great  stone  battle-axe*  Per- 
haps it  once  belonged  at  some  remote  period 
of  time,  to  another  chief  in  that  warrior's 
ancestry* 
jfi  "A  Gathering  Storm n — the  unbroken 

31 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

prairie*  "We  are  brought  by  these  to  grand 
phenomena*  Heavens*  what  piles  of  cloud! 
What  solemn  loneliness ! 

44  Gloomy  and  dark  art  thou,  O  chief  of  the  mighty 

Omahas; 
Gloomy  and  dark  as  the  driving  cloud*  whose 

name  thou  hast  taken." 

jt  The  words  of  Longfellow  come  quickly 
to  the  lips*  These  prairies  may  not  be  as 
beautiful  as  those  of  which  he  and  Bryant 
sang — they  were  farther  to  the  south*  I 
imagine  —  but  they  were  fair  enough* 
Though  not 

"Bright  with  luxuriant  clusters  of  roses  and  pur- 
ple amorphas*" 

nor  covered  with 

"Billowy  bays  of  grass  ever  rolling  in  shadow 

and  sunshine;" 

32 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

yet  under  the  spell  of  magnificent  cloud 
scenery  they  were  grand  and  dramatic* 
j*  Here  are  two  famous  objects ;  f amous. 
at  least,  in  those  days — not  far  apart  and 
following  each  other  in  the  book — "The 
Court  House,"  and  the  *  Chimney  Rock*" 
Distinctly  I  remember  the  day  on  which  we 
first  sighted  the  latter — a  pale*  blue  shaft 
above  the  plain*  We  had  just  formed  our 
noon  corral,  and  through  its  western  open- 
ing we  saw  the  chimney*  wavy  through 
the  haze  which  arose  from  the  heated 
ground*  It  seemed  to  us  that  the  slow- 
going  oxen  would  never  reach  it ;  or  rather, 
that  they  would  never  come  to  the  point  in 
the  road  opposite  that  natural  curiosity*  for 
the  emigrant  road  passed  several  miles  to 
the  northward  of  the  low  range  of  bluffs 
of  which  the  "Chimney"  is  a  part.  From 
the  banks  of  Lawrence  Creek*  where  the 
sketch  was  made*  the  bluffs  are  most  pic- 
33 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

turesque*  Strings  of  wild  duck  arose  from 
the  rushes  as  our  train  approached  on  its 
way* 

j»  " Scott's  Bluffs"  make  a  very  different 
picture  from  those  of  OTallen*  The  sedi- 
mentary heights  of  the  former,  with  their 
strong  resemblance  to  walls  and  towers,  are 
rosy  with  the  light  of  the  rising  sun.  In 
the  middle  distance,  in  a  little  valley,  is  the 
train  corralled,  the  steel-blue  smoke  rising 
in  a  straight  column  from  the  morning 
camp-fires*  In  the  foreground  are  sun- 
flowers* a  buffalo  skull  among  them* 

jt  Ah!  here  is  a  sad*  dark  sketch— *  Left 
by  the  Roadside*"  The  tall,  rank  growth 
and  a  low*  half-sunken  head-board  are  dark 
against  the  sky  in  which  lingers  yet  a  red 
flush  of  the  twilight*  Two  or  three  stars 
shed  their  paly  rays  from  afar,  and  one 
feels  that  the  silence  is  unbroken  by  even 
the  faintest  sigh  of  wind*  But  certainly 
34 


THE  OLD  TOURNEY 

there  will  come  one  soon,  a  long,  shivering, 
almost  moan-like  sound,  as  the  wind  creeps 
stealthily  across  the  waste  and  gently  stirs 
the  prairie  grass  and  flowers* 

*£  Countless  in  numbers  almost  were  those 
silent  witnesses  of  death  by  the  way.  The 
mounds  were  to  be  seen  in  all  imaginable 
places*  Each  day  we  passed  them,  singly 
or  in  groups;  and  sometimes,  nay,  often, 
one  of  our  own  company  was  left  behind 
to  swell  the  number.  By  the  banks  of 
streams,  on  grassy  hillocks,  in  the  sands, 
beneath  groves  of  trees,  or  among  piles  of 
rock,  the  graves  were  dug.  We  left  the  new 
mounds  to  be  beaten  upon  by  the  tempests, 
scorched  by  the  sun  or  for  beauty  to  gather 
about  as  it  had  about  many  of  the  older 
ones.  Sometimes  where  we  camped  the  old 
graves  would  be  directly  alongside  the  wag- 
ons. I  recall  sitting  by  one  that  was  thickly 
covered  with  grass  and  without  a  head- 

35 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

board  while  I  ate  my  evening  meal,  and  of 
sleeping  beside  it  at  night*  One  remains  in 
my  mind  as  a  very  soothing  little  picture — a 
child's  grave,  and  it  was  screened  around 
with  a  thicket  of  wild  rose  that  leaned  lov- 
ingly over  it,  while  the  mound  itself  was 
overgrown  with  moss*  I  fancied  that  the 
parents  of  that  child,  were  they  yet  living, 
would  like  to  have  seen  how  daintily  nature 
had  decked  the  last  bed  of  their  loved  one* 
«£*  How  painful  were  the  circumstances 
attending  the  first  burial  in  our  train*  A 
woman  died  one  evening  (we  were  about 
ten  days  out)  just  as  the  moon  had  risen 
over  the  prairie,  and  swiftly  the  tidings 
sped  through  the  camp*  Next  morning  (it 
was  the  Sabbath  Day)  she  was  buried — laid 
to  rest  on  a  low  grassy  hill  near  a  stream* 
Never  can  I  forget  the  grief  of  her  children 
as  the  body  was  lowered  into  the  ground* 
A  network  of  stakes  was  placed  across  the 

36 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

grave  to  keep  away  the  robber  wolves,  and 
a  hymn  was  then  sung,  accompanied  by 
the  plaintive  wailing  of  a  clarionet* 

j*  That  first  death  made  a  sad  impression 
on  our  company,  but  after  a  while  the  bur- 
ials became  so  frequent  that  they  lost  much 
of  their  saddening  power;  or,  rather,  we 
refused  to  retain  the  sadness,  throwing  it 
off  in  self-defence* 

*£  The  outline  which  follows  brings  up  a 
different  train  of  thought — "  Camp  mater- 
ial abandoned  after  an  attack  by  Indians*" 
The  ground  is  littered  with  all  sorts  of  in- 
describable things*  Panic  is  evident  in  the 
reckless  tossing  away  of  every  kind  of 
article,  anything  to  lighten  the  loads  so 
that  the  fear-struck  emigrants  could  hurry 
forward*  This  was  the  train  immediately 
preceding  ours,  and  a  couple  of  days  later 
we  passed  one  of  those  prairie  letters — an 
ox  shoulder-blade — on  which  was  written : 

37 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

"Captain  train  passed  here 

August  J4th,  J8— 

8  deaths* 

90  head  of  cattle  driven  away  by  the  Indians. 
Great  scare  in  Camp." 

&  Apropos  of  alarms  from  the  Indians  there 
is  a  rapidly  executed  subject  (from  memory 
next  day)  that  brings  back  a  night  of  peril 
and  sorrow*  It  was  on  the  western  slope 
of  the  Black  Hills  and  there  were  five 
wagons  of  us  belated  from  the  general  train. 
We  were  the  last  five  on  the  right  wing 
and  the  right  wing  was  the  latter  half  of 
the  train  that  night,  so,  practically  we 
were  alone*  There  was  a  dead  woman  in  one 
of  the  wagons,  and  to  hear  the  weeping 
and  sobbing  of  her  little  children,  in  the 
dark  beside  the  corpse,  was  heart-chilling. 
38 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

The  poor  husband  trudged  along  on  foot, 
hurrying  his  single  yoke  of  footsore  cattle. 
Still  we  were  far  behind ;  liable  at  any  mo- 
ment to  be  cut  off  by  the  prowling  Sioux. 
That  was  a  night  to  remember. 

jt  Here  are  two  scenes  among  the  Black 
Hills  themselves,  one  a  very  suggestive 
sketch  showing  rocks,  timber-clad  bluffs,  and 
ragged  peaks  with  the  wagons  of  the  train 
coming  down  a  steep  declivity  into  a  dry 
torrent  bed.  Wild  clouds  are  coming  over 
the  peaks  threatening  a  stormy  night.  It 
appears  that  the  wagons  must  topple  over, 
end  over  end,  so  abrupt  is  the  descent  they 
are  making.  In  the  other  sketch,  made  on 
the  evening  of  the  second  day  following, 
the  train  is  seen  winding  like  a  serpent  over 
the  hills.  In  the  middle  distance  is  a  valley 
partly  obscured  by  mists  and  beyond  it 
stands  Laramie  Peak,  purple  against  the 
sunset  clouds  and  sky. 

39 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

jt  The  night  drives  were  among  the  most 
trying  experiences  upon  the  overland  jour- 
ney* Usually  they  resulted  from  the  dry- 
ing of  some  stream  or  spring  where  we  had 
expected  to  make  the  evening  camp,  and 
the  consequent  necessity  of  moving  for- 
ward* Our  worst  drive  of  this  kind  was 
to  reach  La  Prelle  River  after  leaving  Fort 
Laramie.  on  the  night  which  followed  the 
making  of  the  first  of  the  two  sketches 
just  mentioned*  Wildly  the  lightnings 
glared,  their  lurid  tongues  licking  the 
ground  beside  us*  The  road  was  deluged 
in  the  downpour  of  water ;  and  what  with 
the  crashing  of  thunder,  the  sudden  glare 
of  light,  and  the  wild  dashing  of  rain,  the 
poor  cattle  were  quite  panic-stricken*  It 
was  hard  work  to  make  the  poor  brutes 
face  the  storm*  Yet.  after  all.  their  sagacity 
was  better  than  ours.  Several  times  we 
would  have  driven  them  over  the  edge  of  a 
40 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

precipice  had  not  their  keener  senses  warned 
them  back*  We  would  have  shuddered, 
so  our  captain  afterwards  told  us,  could 
we  have  seen  where  the  tracks  of  our 
wagon-wheels  were  made  that  night* 
«j*  I  try  to  recall  my  diary  (I  did  keep  a 
diary*  though  long  since  it  was  fed  to  the 
flames*)  It  must  have  contained  some  inter- 
esting pages  about  this  part  of  the  journey, 
though  I  cannot  recall  a  word*  The  events 
which  gave  rise  to  its  entries  are  fresh  in 
my  mind*  but  the  matter  itself  has  gone* 
There  was  something  in  it  about  Scott's 
Bluffs*  and  how  they  received  their  name — 
one  fancied  that  he  could  see  the  wounded 
trapper*  abandoned  and  dying  alone*  and 
wondered  if  he  crawled  down  from  the 
bluffs  and  along  by  the  way  we  were  trav- 
eling to  the  spot  where*  at  last*  his  bones 
were  found*  There  was  something*  too* 
about  the  gathering  of  buffalo  chips  and 
4* 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

the  seeking  of  firewood.  What  lonely  spots 
we  did  visit !  One  comes  to  my  mind  at 
this  instant*  How  sadly  the  wind  quired 
in  the  ancient  cedars,  and  how  very  old  ap- 
peared the  boulders  with  their  mottling  of 
lichens  and  with  what  a  dismal  yelp  a  rag- 
ged coyote  leaped  from  his  lair  and  scamp- 
ered down  a  rock-stream  gully !  It  was  tan- 
talizing at  times  to  keep  to  the  road.  How 
could  one  resist  the  temptation  to  throw  off 
restraint,  and  putting  all  prudence  aside 
leap  on  horse-back  and  go  galloping  away 
over  hill  and  through  dale  ?  What  if  the 
redman  did  lie  in  the  way  ?  He  could  be 
a  brother.  O,  but  to  be  like  him ;  to  live 
wild  and  free,  to  be  "iron-jointed,  supple- 
sinew'd,  to  hurl  our  lances  in  the  sun ! " 
&  This,  of  course,  was  on  those  days  when 
having  taken  "the  winds  and  sunshine 
into  our  veins,"  we  felt  stirred  within  us 
the  instincts  of  primal  man.  At  other  times 
42 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

we  were  sober-minded  enough.  The  ro- 
mance of  being  out  in  the  wilds  was  terribly 
chilled  by  an  inclement  sky*  A  few  days 
of  drizzling  rain  tried  the  most  ardent  spirit* 
Then  it  was  that  the  disagreeableness  of 
the  time  made  the  true  mettle  of  the  emi- 
grant show  itself*  Whatever  traits  of  char- 
acter he  possessed — selfishness,  senseless 
fault-finding,  or  those  rarer  qualities  of 
kindness*  cheerful  content,  and  ready  help- 
fulness— all  came  out*  In  Mark  Tapley's 
own  phrase,  it  was  all  very  well  to  u  come 
out  strong  n  when  by  the  warm  glow  of  the 
flames,  or  when  moving  along  with  the 
bright  blue  sky  above  us,  but  it  was  quite  a 
different  task  to  remain  cheerful  when  the 
incessant  rain  made  impossible  even  the 
smallest  of  camp-fires,  and  one  crept  to  bed 
with  wet  clothes  and  chilled  to  the  bone, 
without  even  the  solace  of  a  cup  of  hot 
coffee, 

43 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

&  Hardly  less  trying  were  the  days  of  dust- 
storms*  What  a  misery  it  was  when  the 
wind  blew  from  the  front*  and  the  whole 
cloud  of  dust  raised  by  the  motion  of 
seventy-five  wagons  and  over  three  hun- 
dred yoke  of  cattle*  drove  in  our  faces* 
How  intolerably  our  eyes  and  our  nostrils 
burned*  and  how  quickly  our  ears  were 
filled  with  the  flying  sand* 

•a*  Here  is  a  suggestion  of  a  sometimes  un- 
pleasant duty*  "The  Night  Guard*"  His 
was  a  trust  in  which  labor,  anxiety  and  dan- 
ger were  often  combined.  The  picket  on  duty 
at  the  front  of  war  was  scarcely  more  im- 
portant than  he*  In  those  days  of  lawless- 
ness* in  red  man  and  white*  constant  vigil 
had  to  be  kept*  On  the  faithful  perform- 
ance of  the  night  guard's  duty*  our  safety 
depended*  Alone  with  his  thoughts*  too, 
he  had  ample  opportunity  for  careful  reflec- 
tion. Men  who  can  now  count  their  wealth 

44 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

by  hundreds  of  thousands,  some  by  the 
millions  of  dollars,  can  remember  their  vain 
strivings  when  poor  and  on  night  guard 
to  look  into  the  future ;  to  see  some  faint 
glimpse  of  what  fortune  held  in  store  for 
them  in  the  "Westward  Ho!" 

J*  "We,  like  ships  that  pass  on  the  sea, 
sometimes  spoke  a  returner*  No  gloomy 
recital  of  disappointment  could  turn  us  back* 
The  Golden  "West  was  our  goal  and  those 
who  returned  were  but,  to  us,  the  too  timid 
ones*  In  truth,  has  not  the  dream  of  the 
Pioneer  been  fully  realized  I* 

&  Three  subjects  that  follow  are  by  the 
Sweetwater  River*  In  one  the  Rattle- 
snake Hills  are  shown,  dim  in  the  summer 
haze,  and  in  the  second  is  the  "  Rock  Inde- 
pendence^ in  the  third  is  the  noted  "  Devil's 
Gate,"  with  its  reflection  in  a  pool  of  the 
stream* 

&  Irving,  in  his  Bonneville,  describes  u  A 

45 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

Buffalo  Herd,"  When  seen  at  a  distance 
44  they  resemble  a  grove  of  low,  thick-set 
trees*"  On  a  distant  plain  or  along  a  hill- 
side they  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  clus- 
tered scrub-oak*  Ash  Hollow  was  once  a 
favorite  resort  of  the  now  rare  animal*  A 
traveler  once  saw  there  a  herd  which  could 
scarcely  have  numbered  less  than  from  fifty 
to  sixty  thousand*  So  vast  were  the  herds 
in  the  valley  of  the  upper  Platte*  that  it 
would  sometimes  take  several  days  for  one 
of  them  to  pass  a  given  point*  Woe  to  the 
small  party  of  emigrants  that  happened  to 
be  in  the  track  of  such  a  herd  of  frightened 
buffaloes! 

«j*  Scarcely  less  dangerous  was  a  stampede 
of  cattle*  Helter-skelter*  maddened  by  fear, 
blind  as  their  wild  fellows,  the  stupid  crea- 
tures rushed  recklessly  on*  No  longer  the 
patient,  submissive  beasts  whose  pace  seemed 
ever  too  slow  to  our  eager  desires*  but  full 

46 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

of  fury,  dashing  they  cared  not  where.  A 
stampede  of  yoked  cattle  was  one  of  our 
most  lively  episodes* 

•£  Here  is  a  wide  gap  in  the  locale 
of  sketches — the  result  of  a  mountain 
fever.  "What  a  gloriously  majestic  outline 
the  peaks  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains 
make,  and  especially  from  this  spot — the 
High  Springs,  in  the  South  Pass !  Delight- 
some days  were  ours,  as  we  moved  slowly 
forward  through  that  broad  highway,  with 
those  towering  mountains  all  the  while 
seeming  to  gaze  down  upon  us!  Joyfully 
we  burst  into  song : 


"All  hail  ye  snow-capped  mountains! 
Golden  sunbeams  smile*" 


•£  And  what  a  time  of  gaiety,  too,  fol- 
lowed each  day's  drive,  when  the  evening 
47 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

meal  was  over  and  the  sweet-toned  clarionet 
assembled  all  in  the  open  corral,  and  the 
young  men  and  women,  and  the  older  ones, 
too,  danced  the  hours  away,  forgetful  in 
the  merriment  of  the  time,  of  the  fatigues 
that  were  past  and  those  that  were  to  come* 
It  was  such  hours  as  these  that  atoned  for 
those  which  had  been  sad* 

That  clarionet,  what  an  important  part 
it  held !  It  voiced  the  general  feeling  of  the 
train. 


&  Merrily,  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri, 
sounded  its  notes  at  the  moment  of  starting. 
Mournfully  it  spoke  as  each  one  who  fell  by 
48 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

the  wayside  was  laid  away  to  his  rest*  I 
seem  to  hear  it  once  again  as  when  we 
reached  the  Chimney  Rock— the  half-way 
house  it  was  sometimes  called — and  all  gave 
themselves  up  to  unbounded  jollity,  and  as 
it  awoke  us,  too,  for  the  last  start  near  our 
journey's  end*  Its  remembered  strains  bring 
back  the  scent  of  prairie  flowers  and  the 
homely  sage* 

«**  But  this  reviewing  grows  lengthy,  and 
now  we  are  nearing  the  end*  Small  need 
to  tell  how  expectancy  grew  upon  us  as  the 
number  of  miles  ahead  grew  less  and  less* 
Even  those  who  had  apparently  grown 
apathetic  and  trudged  silently  along,  or  sat 
questionless  in  the  wagons,  began  to  mani- 
fest the  same  eager  interest  which  had 
marked  the  days  of  our  starting  out*  Wake 
up!  wake  up!  wake  up!  Fun  and  frolic 
must  sometimes  take  the  place  of  sentiment 
and  sobriety,  and  so  one  who  was  ever 

49 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

brimming  over  with  both  could  not  wait  the 
poetic  summons  of  the  clarionet*  Beating: 
together  two  old  tin  pans  he  frisked  around 
the  corral,  rousing  with  the  unseemly  noise 
all  laggards  and  slug-a-beds* 

&  Here  is  the  "Ford  of  the  Green  River/' 
not  where  the  railway  crosses  it  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  but  farther  up  the  stream,  where 
in  the  distance,  the  north-east,  the  jagged 
summits  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains 
were  again  in  view,  and  where  on  the  river 
banks  are  groups  of  Cottonwood  trees  and 
thickets  of  wild  raspberry  and  rose,  and  the 
air  is  aromatic  with  the  exhalations  of  wild 
thyme*  It  is  a  stirring  scene,  for  the  water 
was  deep  and  swift  and  the  fording  not 
accomplished  without  danger.  A  half-day's 
rest  on  the  banks  of  Green  River,  as  well 
as  the  attractiveness  of  the  place  itself, 
makes  the  scene  of  that  sketch  remembered 
with  pleasure* 

50 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

&  "Echo  Canyon"  brings  us  within  the 
borders  of  Utah.  Clear  shone  the  Septem- 
ber sun,  as  our  long  train  wound  slowly 
under  the  conglomerate  cliffs;  slowly,  for 
half  the  cattle  were  footsore,  and  all  way- 
weary*  Several  hours  were  consumed  in 
passing  through  the  defile,  and  night  was 
falling  ere  the  mouth  of  the  canyon  was 
reached.  Later,  as  the  camp-fires  were 
blazing,  the  full  moon  illumined  the  fan- 
tastic scene* 

j*  Who  of  all  those  that  traversed  Echo 
Canyon  in  an  ox-team  train  will  forget 
the  shouting,  the  cracking  of  whips,  the 
wild  halloas,  and  the  pistol-shots  that  re- 
sounded along  the  line,  or  the  echoes,  all 
confused  by  the  multitude  of  sounds,  and 
passing  through  each  other  like  the  concen- 
tric rings  on  a  still  pond  when  we  throw  in 
a  handful  of  pebbles,  flying  from  cliff  to 
cliff  and  away  up  in  the  shaggy  ravines 
5) 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

and  seeming  to  come  back  at  last  from  the 
sky? 


"O  hark,  O  hear!  how  thin  and  clear, 
And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going ! 

O  sweet  and  far  from  cliff  and  scar 
The  horns  of  Elfland  faintly  blowing! 

Blow,  let  os  hear  the  purple  glens  replying; 

Blow,  bugle,  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying, 
dying." 


&  No  wonder  the  place  recalls  Tennyson's 
song,  but,  it  must  be  told,  there  were  none 
of  "the  horns  of  Elfland  faintly  blowing" 
about  the  wild  hilarity  of  sounds  which 
were  sent  back  from  the  cliffs  that  day* 

j*  The  last  sketch  in  the  book  is  a 
"Glimpse  of  the  Valley *"  Not  one  in  our 
company  but  what  felt  the  heart  swell  with 
joy  as  the  sight  of  fields  and  orchards,  in 
which  hung  ripened  fruit,  burst  upon  our 

52 


THE  OLD  JOURNEY 

sight*  Danger  and  fatigues  were  all  for- 
gotten* The  stubborn  interminable  miles 
were  conquered,  "The  Journey"  was  at  an 
end* 

53 


m?\?'. ' 


